


"I'm ok, thank you. Just please stop talking to me."

by beefcakemish



Series: Misc. Drabbles [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Established Relationship, Hangover, M/M, Post-Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 01:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20184148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beefcakemish/pseuds/beefcakemish
Summary: Cas wakes up the morning after his wedding with an awful hangover.





	"I'm ok, thank you. Just please stop talking to me."

Barely awake, Cas rolls onto his other side, and away from the blinding light coming through the gap in the curtains. He quickly regrets the movement when his head spins, and he fights back the urge to be sick. Reaching for the blanket and pulling it over his head, he manages to block out the daylight, but it does nothing to help the throbbing in his head.

A door opens, then closes, and he makes no motion to conceal himself from the intruder. He feels like death either way, maybe the stranger will do him a favor and end his misery.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

He knows that voice. That slight southern drawl. But why is Dean talking so loudly? The bed dips next to him, and a hand rubs up and down his back. It’s almost comforting, and on a normal morning, Cas would be appreciative of the gesture.

“Sweetheart, wake up.”

Cas groans as his head continues to pound. “Go away, Dean.”

“I brought coffee. We can go to the diner in a bit too. Greasy breakfast is the best cure for a hangover. Trust me.”

Just the mere mention of food has Cas’ stomach turning yet again. “I’m ok, thank you. Just please, stop talking to me.”

Dean chuckles at his reply, and shuffles further onto the bed. Cas, on instinct, moves closer to him, resting his head on Dean’s lap, his hand tracing patterns on Dean’s pajama pants.

Cas tries to focus on the warmth of Dean beneath him. Something strong and solid to anchor his mind, and lull him back to sleep. He only manages to nod in and out for several minutes before giving up altogether.

“My head is spinning. The whole room is spinning. Why did I drink so much? Why did _you_ let me drink so much?”

“I had nothing to do with it. Blame our family. We should have known having an open bar would be a bad idea.” He reaches a hand under the blanket and combs his fingers through Cas’ surely ridiculous bed-head.

Reluctantly, Cas agrees. “I suppose. But I didn’t think they’d all insist on getting _me_ drunk. I thought they’d focus on getting themselves drunk. Why don’t you feel like crap?”

“You forget, I come from a long line of alcoholics.” Dean laughs, a slight edge to his voice. “I’ve got a bit of a headache, but after I saw Gabe hand you two shots of tequila and Balthazar talk you into a shot of Jager, I knew you were done for. One of us had to make sure we’d get home.”

“You’re nothing like your father and you know that.” Cas pauses, suddenly angry with himself for being so irresponsible. “I’m sorry you had to babysit me. I promise you won’t have to do that again.”

Dean’s hand ceases its motion through Cas’ hair and moves to pull the covers off of his head and down over his shoulders until he can clearly see his husband. “I’m not mad, sweetheart. I’m glad you had fun. It’s what the whole day was about.”

Cas ignores the spinning in his head long enough to look up at Dean. The nausea is completely worth seeing the soft smile on Dean’s face as he gazes down at him. He takes Dean’s left hand in his, pausing to admire the light as it hits the silver and black band on his finger.

“I love you. You know that?”

Dean outright laughs at that. “Yeah, I kind of figured when you said ‘I, do’ in front of a hundred people yesterday, Cas.”

Cas pulls Dean’s hand to his lips, placing a series of light kisses across his fingers and the back of his hand before letting go, allowing Dean to resume running his fingers through Cas’ hair, lulling him back to sleep.

When he wakes, fifteen minutes or an hour later, he’s not sure, Dean is still there, eyes closed and head tilted back against the headboard. Cas sits up and swings a leg over Deans, arranging himself on his lap. Dean stirs, and before he can question the position he’s in, Cas’s lips are pressed to his. They separate a moment later before Cas moves back in closer, bringing his lips to Dean’s ear. “Can we get hashbrowns now, Dean?

Dean pulls back and smiles at Cas as he pushes him back and off of his lap. “I love you.” Dean says, walking into the bathroom adjoining their room.

“That wasn’t an answer!” Cas yells after him, before hearing the shower start and Dean’s laugh echoing against the tile.


End file.
